Height of Dishonour
by x-Goody2Shoes-x
Summary: A response to the Adultery with a Twist HP challenge. Oneshot. Inspired by two quotes from Remus Lupin, one bookverse, one movie verse.  Lily sets out to teach Lupin that it is not how others see us that define who we are, but how we perceive ourselves.


This is my weird response to the Adultery with a Twist HP challenge. Take it as you will. I'm a bit iffy about this one to be honest, as in my head I have a clear view of what this is, but others may take it wrongly. Meh. If you have any questions/comments/concerns I'd be glad to anwser them - please email me. As always, constructive criticism encouraged. I don't own HP.

Dedicated to Jack - for being the Lily to my Remus (in a slightly more cheerful and less traitorous way).

**Height of Dishonour.**

_"Your mother was there for me at a time when noone else was."_

_Remus Lupin, Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban film._**  
**

_"No, I think you're like James, who would've considered it the height of dishonour to mistrust his friends."_

_Remus Lupin, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows book._

James Potter sat quietly in front of the fireplace, watching the flames crackle in the grate, his six month old son cooing and gurgling in his lap as he absentmindedly bounced his knees to keep him chuckling. He knew what was happening. He knew it because it had been the first time Lily lied to him.

Actually, was that true? Lily had been an expert at lying. She had lied to herself in school, keeping him at arm's length and refusing to acknowledge that she'd fancied the pants off him. She'd lied to herself about Snape, when she was still close friends with him, and did her best to ignore his obvious attraction for the Dark Arts. She had lied to him when she was first pregnant with Harry, wanting to keep it as a "surprise."

But this type of lying - lying that meant she was currently in the metaphorical arms of an old schoolfriend?

No. That wasn't the type of lying Lily did best. And that was why James Potter was not one bit happy.

Lily Potter nee Evans sighed quietly to herself as she lay on her back, her auburn mane flowing over her pale shoulders, her green eyes subdued in the firelight. Flames crackled in the small hearth, the only light in the darkened bedroom. Not a bedroom per se - it was a grubby room, with only a lumpy pillow and a scratchy, thin blanket to cover oneself with. The hearth was blackened with soot, and the room stank of the smoke and the pure emotion. The man lay on his back, his eyes closed in what, for once, appeared to be relative calm. Sleeping? Or pretending to be? Lily didn't know. She was scared. She felt sick. She wanted to go home, and hug and kiss Harry, and put him to bed, and then turn to face James - James, who would tease her mercilessly and chase her upstairs untill they'd fall into bed, laughing at themselves and their desire.

Lily needed James' humour. Not the melancholy silence of -

"I thought you were leaving," Remus Lupin murmered quietly to her, his eyes still closed. Lily smiled ruefully at him.

"I am."

"You're still sitting here."

"I know," she replied, as she sat up and let the blanket fall, revealing her partially clothed body. Lily blushed in embaressment as she hoisted her shirt back into place - it had slid off one shoulder. The shoulder with the teeth marks. Lily shook her head abruptly. Forget about that now! She stood up.

"I really do have to go, Moony," she said quietly, not looking at him as she patted her pockets to check she had everything she needed. Keys, photographs, floo powder, courage for the awkwardness that lay ahead -

"Are you going to tell him?" It was murmered so carefully, so quietly, she could pretend not to hear. Perhaps that was his plan. He who lived alone in darkness, with only his thoughts for company, and the knowledge that for one night soon he would be a monster to all he loved. Lily paused as she took a fistful of glittering powder and threw them into the flames, which turned emerald green and towered above her, crackling loudly.

"No," she whispered at last, one foot already in the grate. "There's nothing to tell." And before anything else could be said,she had stepped into the grate with a cry of "Godric's Hollow!"

James Potter smiled sadly down at his son, who was already drifting off to sleep in his cot. He was so young. So perfect. He had her eyes - everyone always said so. James was glad they were closed. He couldn't think of her now. He needed to think. He settled himself quietly down in the armchair in the corner of the nursery, leant back, closed his eyes and thought. And thought. And thought some more.

Remus Lupin lay on his back, his fingers following the pattern of scars on his chest, underneath the fabric of his shirt. Down across the chest... a deeper trent above the belly button... and one bite mark on the left hip...

He had always viewed himself as a monster. And tonight, drunk with bitterness, regret, anger, and the forlorn hope that, perhaps, there was someone there for him in the world... someone to see beyond the scars that ailenated him beyond hope of recall... someone with whom he could proudly wave moving photographs of their bouncing six month old son - had pushed him into acting like one. Only monsters betrayed their friends.

Lily had always been kind to him. Witty, vivacious and intelligent, she had been popular in school. Remus chuckled to himself in the dark, recalling James' many rants about her "pure, bloody stuck-upishness" in the Gryffindor common room when she refused to succumb to his dubious charms. Remus must have been the one boy to not want to snag a date with her. True, he had known she was pretty - Merlin, it was impossible not to, she was an attractive girl - but a relationship? She was too passionate for him. Remus needed someone... calmer, quieter, more suited to his frequent bouts of depression. There was never any good in blotting out the brightest comets. Much better to find a smaller system with whom you could orbit together in relative peace.

But tonight, Lily brought that photograph. Proof, if ever any was needed, of her and James' radiant happiness. Tonight, he had been tending to the latest wounds he had bestowed on himself, just last night. What a comparison. The happy family, and the tormented loner. And when Lily had sought to sooth him with empty condolences - because who would love a werewolf! Who would wait for him! He had turned on her. The wolf finally snapped. And as his teeth dug into the warm flesh of her shoulder, he had tasted the vanilla on her skin, and her long nails had raked a new ravine in his skin as she tore him off her - only to press her lips to his, for him to taste vanilla again, for him to sway in shock and fall back on the pathetic excuse for a bed.

And when he had succumbed to the passions of a human - not the passions of an animal, or a killer, but a real, warm, trembling, red-blooded human able to think, able to_ feel _- he had felt a stirring again, for the one who would understand him. Because he could taste the vanilla, and smell James' aftershave on her, and he could feel her long thick lustrous hair, handfuls of it, and it felt good, smelt good, tasted good, but was so wrong, so awkward, all of it, that he was partially relieved when she broke away to whisper feverishly.

"You see?" She gasped, her eyes sparkling. "No matter how much of an animal you think you are, there will always be people who see otherwise. Prongs did. I do too. She's waiting for you, Remus. Somewhere." And the wolf crept away, and the darkness left his eyes and heart, and he had lain back on the bed and closed his eyes, ignoring Lily as she wound herself in the blanket and sat in silence. Untill she got up to leave. And Remus remembered what he had tried to forget, who would be waiting anxiously for her. And who he had betrayed. Not intentionally. But betrayed nevertheless. Because amongst those sweet sugary kisses, had been a happiness of sorts - she had always seen the good in him, moreso, perhaps, than the Marauders. Because they accepted him without question, animal and all. But she contested there ever was an animal in the first place.

James Evans lay wide-eyed in the dark as his wife tip-toed into their room. He'd heard her let herself in quietly, heard her creep up the stairs, heard her sneaking a peek in at Harry. Now she was undressing quietly in the dark, leaving her things on the floor as she always did. She smelt of him. But there was something else too. Something hard to describe. Now she was sliding into the double bed as if uncertain of her place there. Minutes passed in silence. He heard himself speak.

"How was it?" More silence. Asleep?

"OK. He's done some real damage this time, seems to have bitten a chunk out of his hip."

"Are you OK?"

"He snapped at my shoulder, nothing big."

"Good."

More silence. "Lily?"

"Mmm?"

"You know one of the things I love the most about you?"

"What's that?"

"You always try so hard to help people - even when you risk doing damage to yourself. I've always admired that quality in you - though it can be a bit of a bitch to you, at times."

"Yes, I suppose it can... James, what're you sa-"

"Goodnight, Lily."

She wondered if it was worth pursuing- and then she thought of Lupin's eyes as he attacked her - it hadn't been a monster - there had been the tears of a man who could never begin to understand the depth of what had potentially happened when she kissed him. And if her attempts to prove he wasn't a monster damaged her life in return - that was the price she'd have to pay. Risking the height of dishonour for the noblest cause - there was one for the books. It was almost worthy of Dumbledore, she thought wryly, execpting the immoral story behind it.

"Night, James."

She turned over with a creak of the matress and a sigh. James turned to look at her, and smiled ruefully, his eyes seeing the teeth marks embedded in her skin, and the curve of her slightly swollen lips. His eyes sparkled with tears, but she'd never see.

"It's OK," he mouthed, unable to speak. "I understand. I - I don't..." He sighed. "I forgive you. Both of you." He turned over.

Lily Potter nee Evans sighed restlessly. Perhaps she'd tell him tomorrow.


End file.
